


Dreams, Letters, and Arrows

by visionofblue (merelyafigment)



Series: Shifting Alliances 'Verse [4]
Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25686988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/visionofblue
Summary: What Miguel and Ryan are up to shortly after Shifting Alliances ends, including dealing with Valentine's Day. (Originally posted elsewhere back in  2004-2006.)
Relationships: Miguel Alvarez/Ryan O'Reily
Series: Shifting Alliances 'Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862302
Kudos: 9





	Dreams, Letters, and Arrows

**Author's Note:**

> There was almost a sequel to Shifting Alliances, but it never happened. This definitely would have been the start of it. It doesn’t really stand alone, but it is an incomplete glimpse of the future shortly after Shifting Alliances ends. As long as you ignore the scheming and plot threads being set up that never go anywhere. Having read Shifting Alliances would really help, but you could try to just assume a universe where Ryan and Miguel hooked up in late S3. Miguel recently spent a stint in the hole. They've had lots of sex, and warm fuzzy feelings have developed. (And Ryan is quite aware of the fact that he's in love, he's just smart enough not to say it out loud. At this point, Miguel is just...incredibly dense about such things.)
> 
> Warnings: it's prison, so there are offensive and violent bad things. Bad language, racial and homophobic slurs, and other deeply problematic language and behavior.

Miguel woke up slowly, dragged back to coherence and light. He groaned into his pillow, flat on his stomach on the thin mattress. He was warm now, cocooned in thin sheets and his own settled body heat, but as soon as he moved even a fraction the chill would leak in.

He kept his eyes closed, staying still even as his muscles started to wake up and he could feel his limbs again. Trying to cling to his dream, even as another groan that wanted to be a cough roughly crawled out of him. 

He couldn't remember the dream, only knew that he wanted to. He had pieces of it floating in his head. Warmth that made the kind he was waking up to start to seem colder in comparison. The ghost of sensation. A body pressed against his. 

That was what had made it warmer. Hot skin sharing space with his, slipping over him. A sinewy arm around him. Long strength everywhere, right against the curves and planes of his own body.

Miguel pushed up on his arms, giving in and opening his eyes when he couldn't capture the exact picture of the memory, just the haunting sense of what he'd felt. That phantom sensation clung to his skin, remembering touch where there no longer was any, as he rolled over and stared at the underside of the empty bunk above him, listening to the buzzer and the sounds of the hacks. Alone in his narrow bed, his arm brushing only stone.

Once he let go of trying so hard to catch it, a little more of the dream surfaced. He vividly remembered who that body had belonged to, at least. Ryan. He'd been dreaming of sharing a bed with the Irishman. 

And he wished he could just go back to sleep.

**

Later that day, Miguel got to feel that body against his again. 

They were wearing clothes though, the uniforms that came with their work duties. Thin soft scrubs against loose dingy kitchen whites. He was paying more attention to other things. The skin under the fabric. Button undone so he could trace Ryan's sharp collarbone with his mouth, feeling the flow of it, muscle and bone, under teeth and tongue, between his lips. Ryan's hands drew lazy patterns over his lower back, under the thin material, keeping him warm and close. 

People who worked out in the world got fifteen-minute breaks, right? This was theirs, stolen away in a private room in the hospital ward, up against the door. The patients currently being neglected by Miguel should be fucking happy, O'Reily had been much faster handing out their trays than usual. They could just shut up and eat and fucking wait for the return of clean sheets and help.

"I had a dream..." Miguel murmured over Ryan's throat as he slowly worked his way back up to that mouth.

Dull short nails scratched lightly over the small of his back in a teasing caress. "Don't tell me -- all the races were living in harmony, and Pancamo was painting Adebisi's nails?"

Miguel pulled away from the taste of skin to blink, too thrown to laugh, but his grin broke free. "No. Loco motherfucker." The words were as mild as his own stroke up Ryan's bare side under his shirt. "Do you want to hear it or not?"

Ryan 's bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he pretended to contemplate it. 

"Offer ends in five seconds," Miguel said pointedly.

"Well…I like what your mouth was doing before….how good a dream was it?" Ryan framed the teasing question with a soft thrust of his hips.

"Good." Miguel drawled out the answer, meeting that purposely frustrating mouth with enough firm heat to shut it up and make Ryan chase him as he pulled away.

Ryan's hands clung to his skin, dragging over his back, slipping around his sides, and finally trailing away as Miguel walked away and left Ryan leaning against the door. Miguel fell onto the hospital bed in a relaxed sitting position to stare back at him.

Ryan followed, rattling the bed, sitting down next to him. Ryan's legs swung freely as he sat up straight, while Miguel stayed sitting slightly back, propped up on his arms. 

"Okay. Tell me all about your dream." Ryan's tone was jokingly reminiscent of a shrink and it pulled Miguel's lips into a wider smile.

"I don't really remember much about it."

"You want to tell me about a dream you don't remember? I was hoping for something wetter, with lots of nudity, gato. Make something up if you have to." 

Miguel lightly kicked one swinging leg, and Ryan returned it with a knock of his boot. "I know it was about you."

"Ahh." Ryan grinned at that, and it contained a lightness that had nothing to do with taunting. He waited a long beat, just looking at Miguel. "So…how naked was I?"

Miguel snorted, abrupt caught laughter. Yeah, it turned out it was actually worth interrupting the cling of their mouths together just to fuck around with Ryan with words for a minute. 

Miguel settled in as he tried to remember, still leaning back on his elbows, hands idle on his abdomen. He remembered …skin everywhere, every inch of him brushing against Ryan's heat. If he closed his eyes, he could even catch the wispy memory of the lax length of Ryan's dick pressed along the curve of his hip. Although that might be his imagination embellishing on the gauzy piece of the dream he did remember. But he knew for sure that they had been naked.

"We were buck-ass naked, baby."

Ryan settled back a little too, a slight mimic of Miguel's pose, leaning back on his arms. But he was leaning a little towards Miguel too, hand slipping over to tug idly at the edge of Miguel's scrub shirt as that lazily sparking grey-green gaze held his.

"Now that's more like it." Ryan leaned in. "Mmm…what were we doing?" Ryan's mouth slid closer with the words, and Miguel felt the pull of the cot dipping towards the Irishman. "How was I touching you?" Low husky voice a shiver of warm breath over Miguel's skin. Ryan turned towards him more, grazing a hand over Miguel's arm.

Fuuck. Ryan had a whole other plan for their chat, it seemed. Miguel caught that mouth. Just as full of hot promises and indulgence as he'd thought. He let himself get sidetracked, knowing the door was locked. He reached up to grasp the back of Ryan's neck, bringing those nice wet kisses, all surety and grace, even closer.

After long moments, space crept back between their mouths, filled by heavy breathing. Miguel watched those hooded eyes. So close, both of them leaning into each other, turned more on their sides, propped on one arm each, meeting there in that dip of the bed now, making it a hollow for both of them. His touch stayed on Ryan's warm neck as Ryan's free hand rested on his hip, curved and comforting touch.

"We were touching everywhere, baby. Lying together, spent, all over each other. It was so fucking hot. Different than fucking. Much better than the narrow bed I woke up in. I wanted to go back to sleep just to get back there with you." Miguel spun his smooth words out softly. 

He was used to sweet-talking women, putting a little raw grace into his words. Talk of beauty and worship and longing to be with them. It made their eyes light up and lips part, and the times when he _meant_ it were even better. 

The deep heat in Ryan's eyes was better too, the clutch of his hand on Miguel's hip, as Ryan pulled him a little closer. Ryan stayed quiet now, but Miguel knew his boy could speak in poetry too, sometimes. Irish charm that was almost as good as Miguel's Latin beat. Miguel would risk saying this shit with him, because he had a feeling Ryan wouldn’t pull out his cock and bravado and try to embarrass Miguel for it.

His thoughts were confirmed with the long slow kiss the words got him, Ryan's breath speeding up before he even reached Miguel's mouth. Better than the haze of a dream. Worth all the artfully vulnerable words in the world. Definitely. He got swallowed up for a minute by that passionate mouth. Returning Ryan's languid kisses, going deep enough to drown them both, drawing a little shiver out of Ryan. Remembering the warmth of his dream, and feeling it pale in comparison to having Ryan right here with the creak of the hospital cot.

It was only a break, though. Had to end. They pulled apart, breathlessness turning into reluctant groans at having to stop. They leaned away from each other, both returning to leaning back, propped up on their arms. Forced apart as much as they could bear.

Hands back to themselves, Miguel watched as Ryan rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, damp now and a shade redder than usual from Miguel's kiss. The hottest little distracted gesture, like he was savoring the trace of Miguel. _Fuck_. It made Miguel want to surge back and bite Ryan's lip. Or suck that finger into his mouth.

"I had something important to tell you…" Ryan said, as soon as he stopped hotly fingering his own fucking mouth and driving Miguel crazy.

Miguel waited, barely noticing the dig of his fingers into the sheets that was keeping him from grabbing Ryan.

"Oh, right," Ryan said finally, as he focused, with a snap of his fingers. Miguel would be more amused at how much he had distracted the Irishman if he weren't just as distracted himself. "Adebisi isn't done stirring up shit."

Great. "What more does the motherfucker want?"

"He wants McManus gone." Ryan said it with a bit of venom at the man's name, like Adebisi wasn't the only one that wanted him gone.

"Yeah, and I want to be free and on Miss Sally's doorstep. Ain't going to happen." 

"It can happen." Ryan stated. "I just thought you should know. We're going to be working on that still."

Shit. 

Still? "How long you been working on it, tiburón?"

"It's been Adebisi's big thing, not mine. He's been handling it himself until now."

"Why do it at all? So you get rid of McManus, some new motherfucker is just going to replace him. And the new guy may be worse. At least McManus can be a fucking pushover sometimes. He's got plans and shit for us. Gives us long leashes." Miguel didn't really have a problem with the man, beyond that bitter anger at all the people that kept him in this shithole. 

McManus wasn't the worst of the fuckers in here, and they did get away with more shit because of his bleeding heart sometimes. Some new guy may crack down on the little freedoms they did have. Might bring in new hacks, whole new group of people to bribe. The way it was, they knew how to work things.

Ryan's face went dark at his question though, those eyes narrowing dangerously, letting his own hatred for the man really show. The depth of it surprised Miguel a little. Until he heard the reason.

"You remember back when Cyril first landed in here?" Ryan started, his voice low with the bitter remembrance. 

Miguel knew what the Nazis had done to Cyril, and he knew from the tone of his voice that was what Ryan was talking about. So he just offered up his quiet confirmation. "Yeah."

"After that scumhole Schillinger got a hold of Cyril, I went to McManus. I practically begged that weak cumstain to move Cyril into Emcity where I could protect him." Ryan's voice was a hiss of hatred, words bitten out. All of Ryan's danger right on the surface. Miguel instinctively moved closer, instead of farther away. 

"I offered him anything." Ryan gestured briefly with his vehemence, voice staying deeper and darker than the hole. "He said no. Said the only way he would do it is if I confessed. Because of his hard-on for Gloria, he hated me and he took it out on Cyril. He knew Cyril was being raped, and he didn't fucking care. He figured if that Nazi was going to destroy people, why should my innocent little brother be spared?"

Shit. The brief string of bitter expletives in Spanish that escaped Miguel's mouth probably didn't need translation to be understood. Miguel's expression hardened and he nodded tersely in newfound agreement with O’Reily's desire to oust the man. He understood Ryan's anger and pain now. And he didn't like seeing it on his face, hearing the lingering damage that had been caused in his words. Of course Ryan wanted that cocksucker gone, the man had fucked with his family, and Miguel wouldn't stop him with a reason like that.

"You need my help?" Miguel ran his hand up Ryan's arm, trying to calm him with the touch. It worked, Ryan leaning into it. 

Ryan came back from that old anger at Miguel's hard offer, expression softening a little as he shook his head. "Not at the moment. It's Adebisi's show. I'm letting him do the heavy lifting and take the heat. Me and him can handle it, no reason to get you tangled up unless it's needed. I just wanted to give you a heads-up because he was hinting earlier today about a new plan and making a bold move. He cheered up after Glynn had to fire that dumb young pet hack of his, so he must've found something new to help. I'll find out exactly what the fuck it is soon."

New hack. Must be the one Ricardo had had problems with. That shit happened when you hired guys that couldn’t hack it because of fucking nepotism. Apparently, the stupid motherfucker had crashed and burned.

"You're going to keep safe and let the shit land on motherfucking Adebisi, right?" Miguel checked. Something like this was big, and he didn’t want Ryan taking the fall or getting caught in the crossfire.

"Of course." Ryan nodded, that dark sharp grin back. "That's what he's there for."

Miguel knew Adebisi was still an ally of Ryan's. One he distrusted, manipulated, and misled. Twisting him to his own plans, using him to his advantage. It just proved how different his alliance with Miguel was. Ryan kept Miguel informed of all the important shit his shark had his hands in now, even the things Miguel wasn't involved in. They were working everybody else, but not each other. They were in it together. 

Miguel was getting used to the strong strange comfort of it. A true partner. In more than just business. The business was just a piece of them now, their survival needs meshing together for support and strength. And they were good at it. But it was just a small part of whatever the hell they'd found together. 

The rest of this, the part with the warm dreams, Ryan's adamant words about them having found something, the emotion in those eyes, and the comfort…Miguel was still figuring all that out.

"Be careful," Miguel cautioned seriously, showing his concern.

Ryan shrugged it off with a look, but he seemed grateful for the concern, even as he sounded mockingly offended at the mere suggestion that he needed the reminder. "I'm always careful, gato." He glanced at his watch, annoyed as he read it. "Shit, almost time to go back." He leaned in to grab another kiss before he sat up straight beside Miguel. "We've got new blood coming in today," Ryan said, changing the subject with the mildly contemplative statement.

They'd had a new batch of inmates roll into Oz shortly after Miguel had gotten sent to the hole, apparently. But they hadn't shifted anyone to Emcity because of all the tension between the gangs at the time. After the truce, which even McManus knew about, it seemed like they felt safe enough transferring them in. Emcity was back to just its usual level of shit stirring and danger, mostly. There was still tension lying under the surface, but the hacks were trying to pretend they could control it.

Miguel rolled with the subject change, sitting up, pressing close to Ryan's side just to feel him lean into it. "I know. I've got to sponsor one of the motherfuckers."

Ryan laughed softly. "Do you know who?"

"Nah. I'll find out when I have to escort his ass back to Emcity."

Ryan grinned slightly as they both stood up. "Have fun with that."

Miguel bumped shoulders with him as they walked to the door. "Shut up, pendejo."

"Make me." Ryan challenged in that hot rough voice of his, sharp to match his grin, leaning into Miguel again where they stood.

Miguel took him up on it for several more long moments pressed against that door before they finally had to part.

**

Miguel walked back to Emcity with the new guy trailing obediently, barely two steps behind him. He wondered if he had ever looked that scrawny, young, and full of fire, while also being so fucking respectful of the amigos above him. 

Jaime Velez carried his own bedding shit, and while Miguel had been welcoming, he hadn't even offered to take it. The gesture showed him Alvarez's place right away. He seemed fine with it. Eager to be led, comfortable in following. Good signs.

They passed through the wide-open gates to Emcity along with the other fresh meat and their sponsors, to be greeted and perused by the rest of the inmates. Miguel kept his confident loping stroll, leading to his pod. There were the regular catcalls directed at the new guys. Some more than others. 

Velez didn't get much shit because he was tagging faithfully along behind the leader of El Norte, and Miguel made it clear just through body language and expression that the new face was accepted in his pack. Velez wasn't marked as vulnerable and ripe for the picking. They just got the regular jeers that were like the air they breathed in here. Insults, but no real challenges that would have to be engaged. Nothing that counted as truly disrespectful, because they were just the ever-present current in here. People always talked shit. The real hard taunts, threats, and disrespect were aimed at the new guys that looked weak and uneasy, that weren't claimed by their temporary keeper.

Miguel saw Ryan as they passed, set up at a table like usual. Even more sprawled, one long leg crooked up across the table comfortably. That was his tiburón, always making the furniture his bitch. Using it the way that was comfortable for him and that long flexible frame, not necessarily the way it was intended. Sometimes it was like the Irishman just couldn't keep his fucking knees together, body language splayed open easily, but in powerful ownership of the space and air. Fitting right into the space he occupied like it was made just for him.

"They finally give you that puppy you've always wanted, Alvarez?" O'Reily taunted mildly with that shark smirk. It fit into the usual, accepted way of communicating around here. No real threat or rancor.

Miguel smirked to himself and casually flipped Ryan off, not missing a step or slowing down, gliding past the man with his new charge. 

He paused for a second outside his pod. It wasn't much longer than a breath, but it was enough time for Velez to take a stride and catch up. Miguel was about to reach for the door when Velez slid up and did it for him, holding it open for Miguel to enter first. 

Good start, the kid had picked up Miguel's place fast and was trying to ingratiate himself and honor Miguel right off the bat, being extra fucking careful while feeling things out. He was probably scared out of his fucking mind about being accepted, but he wasn't showing it.

Miguel strolled in and casually laid back in his bunk, idly picking up a magazine. The top bunk was empty and without bedding. It was important to show the new guy that taking the bottom bunk was Miguel's choice, not a reflection of status.

Velez gave a deferent nod, before plopping his bedding down on the top bunk. Now the younger man's nerves were starting to show. He was still trying to hold tough, but it crept out around the edges as he made his bed, making his new home here in this dangerous unknown place. 

Miguel flipped through his magazine while Velez made his bed, ending his scrutiny. He gave the guy a brief break, before he would lay down the law. Kid needed a chance to breathe. 

As the bunk above him creaked, the faceless body went about its business vaguely at the edge of his vision, snatches of movement caught as Miguel focused on the magazine. The small pod filled with the hushed noises of another presence, another breath. Made it seem smaller. Miguel was okay with having to share a pod, finding a new appreciation for it after solitary. El Cid had sucked, of course, but he had never minded Groves. Interesting motherfucker, okay to pass the time with. Miguel would have to see how Velez would be. 

As the shuffle and movement continued, and all Miguel saw were legs and the slow blur of an arm dancing at the edges of his vision, he could almost imagine it was someone else.

His shark. Miguel _knew_ he'd like bunking with Ryan. Just like he knew it would never happen.

***

Miguel sat at the bare-bones industrial table in his cell, staring at blank sheets of paper, pencil hanging between his lips. Damn, he quit over three years ago, but right now he needed a fucking smoke. Three fingers tapped out a distracted beat, avoiding the blank white canvas waiting for words.

It was coming up on Valentine's Day. The approach of the holiday had been the least of his thoughts when he was in the hole, and he hadn't even fucking realized it was coming until he'd gotten out. It was hard enough to keep track of holidays in here even when he was out of the hole. In this case, a whole month had been stolen from him, as well. It was hard to wrap your head around the time lapse, and he was only now picking up on the things he had missed.

It was past time to have sent anything out for Valentine's. Sure, he had a few days to go until the day, but Fed-fucking-Ex wasn't exactly at the ready for the motherfuckers trapped in here. If you really wanted to make sure it even got there intact and unmolested, you needed to slip it home with someone on visiting day who could get it to the right place for you, bypassing the Nazis in the mailroom. If the other person was behind another fucking set of bars, that meant a whole other visiting day to get it to them. With Miguel's luck, the fucking Aryans probably controlled Parker Women's mailroom too, so he usually tried to bypass that as well. Miguel had to get something down for Maritza soon, if he wanted half a chance of getting it to her before it was way past Valentine's. 

That was the problem. Did he want something to get to her?

He'd sent her a letter for Valentine's Day each year since he'd been here. Long letters sweet enough to rot teeth. Girls liked that shit. And he'd fucking missed her. Being closed off alone in here made that sentimental shit seem less silly and more vital to your soul survival. All those connections and people who cared for you that you had a chance to take for granted on the outside were something you fucking longed for and cherished in here. Sure, guys flaunted their porno mags, and letters from strangers who liked having prison pen pals, and shit, but the private letters from real people you knew? Ones that were just for you, and not the million subscribers, with words like love and miss you and sweetheart? That was the shit that you really curled up with in bed when that loneliness surrounded you and cut deep.

He knew she'd probably be sending him something. Of course, his baby knew him. He usually got a couple of pages of pure romance, and a couple more that put the Penthouse letters to shame. Any other year, his hand and words would not be hesitating.

But this time…it felt strange. Made him uncomfortable, almost like cheating. Even before he'd hooked up with his shark, Miguel had flirted with the rare brave skirt that worked here. That hadn't felt odd, hadn't felt like he was doing something unforgivable to his girl. They were both locked the fuck up, that changed the rules. He might've felt some guilt if he'd ever actually gotten under any of those skirts, but still -- shit happened. If he had gotten laid once or twice, inside or out, it wouldn't have been that bad.

But this wasn't a slip or two. This wasn't just fucking.

He hadn't really felt this uneasiness about Maritza before, even when Ryan's lips were wrapped around his dick. Or vice-versa. Possibly because Maritza was as far from his mind as could be when he was with Ryan. 

That was the real problem. Besides the awakening of guilt for just how fucking much, and how fucking deeply, he was cheating on his girl, he actually felt that same halting pang about doing this to Ryan.

It was only writing a fucking letter.

But Miguel knew -- it might matter to O’Reily. Ryan was a needy, selfish fucking guy, and he liked words almost as much as he liked touch, even if he'd act clueless if you pointed that out. 

The blank white page mocked Miguel.

Old obligation to Maritza versus his new reluctance to hurt Ryan. Even if Ryan never found out about it, Miguel would know. Honestly…Miguel felt more shit for Ryan than he did for Maritza now. Had for a while maybe. No chance in hell was he writing Ryan a letter for Valentine's Day, though. Ryan might want one, which would make it worth it, or Ryan might think it was stupid and he'd never stop giving Miguel shit about it, which would tempt Miguel to take a shot at him just to shut his annoying ass up. Either way, the point was moot because it was too dangerous to put evidence of them on paper to be found anyway. But maybe he could not write this letter to someone else and that would make up for it.

Miguel wasn't having enough trouble, apparently; the powers that be thought his dilemma should take physical form and come knocking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement outside his pod coming close. A dull tapping against his pod door followed and he looked up to see Ryan.

Of course. He had known that motherfucker was psychic. 

Miguel gave him the go-ahead nod automatically though. Ryan slid right in, closing the door behind him to lean casually with his back against the glass. Body language would read as two non-enemies shooting the shit or maybe making casual deals. But Ryan would be able to let his expressions and words speak for him. Miguel, whose face could be seen through the glass, couldn't. Didn't matter, he knew his expressions tended towards stony anyway, and Ryan could just read his eyes and his words.

Miguel grabbed the pencil out of his mouth to speak, gesturing vaguely in Ryan's direction. "Why you rapping at my chamber door, tiburón?" He kept the question plainly curious, not unwelcoming. He definitely didn't mind the interruption, even if Ryan was part of his dilemma. Didn't mean he wasn't happy to see the guy.

Ryan blinked at him, slightly confused by his greeting. He gestured to the blank pages, words curious and teasing. "Are you using those for rolling paper? What the hell are you on?"

"It's from the poem." Miguel rolled his eyes. "You know, the one with the raven, by the guy who wrote all that creepy shit. 'Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore''." 

Ryan nodded slowly, getting it. He was still looking at Miguel like he wanted Sister Pete to do a psych evaluation on him, but it was just part of that tease. "The one who died in a gutter, yeah." Ryan kept up his casual lean. "You know, they make us watch too much educational shit and take too many classes in here."

Miguel let out a small laugh at the bitter mockery of a complaint, throwing his pencil down for the moment, and turning a little to focus on Ryan.

"What are you doing? Writing poetry?" Ryan asked with a smirk.

He'd come just to shoot the shit then. Good. Miguel liked that. It was something enjoyable that calmed him.

Miguel propped back a little in his chair, shifting into a more relaxed position even as his mind tensed up and he hesitated long enough with his answer for Ryan's eyes to narrow slightly in more serious curiosity. "Nah. It's just…holidays. Valentine's Day and shit. It's coming up." His voice was low and his explanation was disjointed from his hesitance. So much for calm and enjoyable. 

"Please tell me you're not writing me a poem." Ryan taunted, deadpan. 

Instead of laughing again, Miguel's eyes fixed on the glass, watching the bend of the bright reflections on it. "Nah. No poetry. I was writing a letter to send out. Maybe. You know, for…" Miguel cleared his throat when his words went too low and rough and scraped over his throat a little. "For Maritza."

Ryan only nodded, but Miguel could see it. The slightly narrowed piercing gaze that carried the tension the body was hiding. His cielo wasn't happy at the mention of Maritza. He sort of seemed jealous and uncomfortable, more than angry. This might be the first time Miguel had mentioned Maritza in a long fucking time, now that he thought about it. Miguel knew he appreciated the lack of Gloria fawning from Ryan in turn, even if Miguel tried to never examine too closely why he felt that way.

Ryan tilted his head, carefully keeping outwardly casual, even as that tightness was plain for Miguel to see. "You write her poetry? And she hasn't been scared away?" A much milder taunt, the true humor drained out; it was a fake play for the normalcy of before.

Miguel shook his head, laughing softly on a sigh. It sounded hollower than it should. Just playing along. "Nah. I usually just write romantic shit. Stuff I remember, shit about how I miss her." Except he hadn't been actively missing her lately, or thinking about her much at all, and Miguel kept that in mind with his next words, maybe hoping it would show a little. "I've done it every other year." His way of letting Ryan know that it was an old ritual. Something expected of him. 

"That's nice." Ryan was really good at insincerity when he wanted to be. If Miguel was stupider, he may have believed those words were anything other than perfunctory. "She got picked up when you did, right?" Idle curiosity, turning away slightly from the Valentine topic.

"Yeah, we got arrested together," Miguel answered, his bitter old humor showing. 

Ryan laughed a little at that. "Now _that's_ romantic."

Miguel smirked. His sarcastic thoughts exactly.

"So Clyde, is Bonnie out now?"

Miguel chuckled at Ryan's phrasing. "Nope. Still locked up." Wouldn't be forever. She'd be up for parole soon. 

And so would Miguel, in a couple more years. That was something he suddenly wanted to avoid thinking of even more than the Valentine. He didn't even want to ponder why he was suddenly avoiding the thoughts of freedom that used to keep him alive in here, at the moment. Because that would lead to much more complicated thoughts than just his old joy and hope on the subject of release from Oz, and he suspected it was all tied up with the fact that Ryan was never fucking getting out. 

Miguel steered the subject away fucking fast, more for himself than Ryan's sake. "Don't know if I'm going to write her one this year." The quiet admittance was directed back at the blank sheets of paper. It was for Ryan, though. "She writes me too. Same thing. But more X-rated." Miguel added with a return of his smirk, especially when Ryan perked up at that.

A little of Ryan's tension seemed to dissipate. "No shit? You're a lucky man, gato. I haven't gotten anything like that in years. You save 'em?"

"Hell yeah, how stupid do you think I am?" Miguel asked with visible scoffing disbelief.

Ryan leaned forward a little, an almost imperceptible shift. "Share them with me?"

And there was that little tense emotion back, buried under the superficial. More there than a horny locked-up guy wanting dirty letters. 

"Nah, man."

"Come on, why not? I'm not going to pass them around. We can hide away and read them."

Yeah, that was it. Ryan was jealous and wanted to be…included. Like he wanted this to be more about _them_ , and less about Miguel and Maritza. 

Miguel found that he didn’t want to keep Ryan out, actually. But this wasn't his to give. Maritza was not some slutty Penthouse writer, or lonely stranger. Those letters were only meant to be seen by his eyes. It would feel wrong to break that last little trust, more than any other. Moving on was one thing, sharing their private remnants without permission was another. Some guys passed their letters around when they could get some chick to write sexual things to them, but Miguel didn't. That shit was private when it was a girl you had cared about.

Miguel stood his ground, shaking his head. "I can read them. You can't. She didn't write them for you."

Wrong choice of words. That tension increased and Ryan was starting to look a little pissed underneath it all.

Miguel tried to correct it, without thinking about why it meant so much to him to do so. "I just meant -- that shit's private for her. She wouldn't have written them if she'd known anyone else would see them. I wouldn't feel right." That wasn't really enough, and Miguel could tell. "It's not like I've even looked at them in a long damn time." Which was the truth. "If it was something you wrote, I wouldn't share it either. Even if I could. I just don't do that. That shit ain't right." Miguel finished, watching that tension drain back out of Ryan after Miguel said that purposely, putting Ryan and Maritza on even ground when it came to such things, to show him that he meant something to Miguel, like Maritza once had. And it had just come out, easily. Still the truth.

"Alright. Can't say I'm not disappointed." Ryan's humor was more real, returning with that little joke. "You're not expecting poetry from me for Valentine's Day, are you?" Playing at vaguely horrified.

Yep, it was back. 

Miguel shook his head, amused. "Please don't fucking write me poetry. I don't need to know how many things rhyme with suck and cock. "

Ryan laughed. "Don’t worry, I can't write you anything. Unless you burned it afterwards." 

It almost sounded like Ryan maybe wanted to be able to write him something, not fucking poetry hopefully. Miguel remembered vaguely, during work duty, seeing Gloria receiving stacks of fucking letters back in the early days of Ryan's obsession. The man liked words. Gestures. Connections. 

"You don't get anything from your wife?" Miguel asked idly.

"Ex-wife." Ryan corrected him. "Didn't end well, so no."

Miguel knew it was ex, but he knew even they wrote sometimes. "That's too damn bad. I saw her once, you know." Miguel commented, appreciation tingeing his voice. Ryan's hot ex-wife, he didn't mind thinking about. Unlike Gloria, Miguel knew Ryan didn't care about her anymore. Gloria and Ryan…he tried not to think about at all.

"Yeah? Shannon?" Ryan's smirk shifted more towards that intriguing little open mouthed grin of his as he shifted his casual lean, crossing his legs loosely at the ankles. 

"Mm-hm. Beautiful. I watched you make out with her in the visitor's room." Miguel mused. He'd appreciated the view even back then. Hungry comfort and passion between sharply attractive people. Miguel exhaled lowly, an appreciative, almost whistle, hand gesturing with it to emphasize the sizzle. "You two were fucking hot, baby. Muy caliente."

"I didn't even know you were there. I'm glad you enjoyed the show." Ryan's lewd shark grin was firmly in place now. "Mmm. Yeah. We used to hole up in the apartment for days, fucking. I can tell you about it later if you want." Ryan paused for a minute, like he was remembering, and letting Miguel imagine it, before he looked less crudely contemplative. "I've never seen Maritza, you know."

"Now that, I can show you." Miguel said. He checked outside the glass. Should be okay. He would just be showing off his girl. Wasn't the first time. He swung up out of the chair to cross the room to his trunk.

"Yeah?" Ryan waited, anticipating.

Miguel laughed a little. "She ain't naked in the picture, mi cielo. Don't get your hopes up."

**

The next day, Miguel's sheets of paper were still blank. He just wasn't staring at them in concentration anymore. He was hanging in the nice quiet computer room instead, reading up on the history of Valentine's Day, for lack of anything better to do. He heard the distinct sound of the door and lazily looked over, sparing only half a glance, hand not leaving the mouse. 

Ryan strolled in, taking up residence at a computer on the other side of the computer table. Safer than sitting next to each other, and they could partially see each other between the monitors. They'd be able to talk just as freely as long as no one started to linger outside the door or come in.

Miguel kept half his attention on his own browsing, while Ryan waited for his computer to come to life and start humming.

"Adebisi filled me in." Ryan spoke lowly after a few minutes, his gaze fixed on his monitor. 

Miguel carefully stayed in his casual slump, not showing his inner interest in anything to those beyond the glass walls. "And?"

"You haven't done anything to piss off any of the new guys, have you?"

Well, Miguel was sure he'd probably taunted one of them at some point, just out of habit. "Why?"

"Adebisi's plans for Timmy-boy involve Frenchie."

"Who?" Miguel asked casually, clicking his mouse somewhat blindly. The words on the screen weren't being processed anymore, but he was focused on them anyway.

"New white guy. No meat on his bones, nervous, dark hair, frog accent. Tarrant."

"What the hell is that scrawny guy going to be able to do to anyone? He going to get molested by McManus too?" Miguel had heard the rumors about that. Wasn't sure if it was bullshit or not, but figuring the victim was supposed to be that cocksucker Kenny, and Ryan's news that Adebisi was trying to nail McManus, he figured it might be. Of course, with that little pussy, who knew.

"Nah. He's going to snap."

"And smother someone with a beret?" Miguel asked, with a snort.

Ryan wasn't amused. He seemed tense, which gave Miguel enough reason to sober up. "No. It's big, I'll tell you when we have more privacy. Just...be careful around him. Adebisi wants it to be racial. He has ideas of getting a black guy to replace McManus. He's got Kenny on the job of making Frenchie's life fucking hell, but when he blows, anybody in the vicinity darker than me could be caught in the crossfire."

If it was big enough that Ryan wouldn't mention it even in the verbal privacy afforded them in the empty computer room, it had to be more than a guy throwing a wild punch or waving a shank. Maybe the fucker could build a bomb out of fermented cheese or something. Whatever it was, it was clear it wouldn't be a good idea to stick out in Frenchie's mind at all, so Miguel wouldn't be a target if he happened to wander into the guy’s path when he snapped.

"So play nice, steer clear, and don't get my dark hide in his sights?" Miguel teased, getting it. 

Miguel caught a glint of humor finally spark in the slice of those serious green eyes he could spot between the monitors. 

"Well, you're more of a butterscotch color, but just to be safe -- don't push him out of your way in the gym or call him a cocksucker, okay?" Ryan joked.

"Cute. I'll be nice. I can still call you a cocksucker, right?" Miguel joked lightly back. He clicked the mouse absentmindedly still, back watching the screen instead of Ryan.

Ryan ignored the minor playful jab, amazingly. "You send out your Valentine yet?" His voice was extra smooth and carefully casual, following the hollow clicking of Ryan's own browsing.

Ahh. That's why he'd let the joke go without a sneering retort. He was too busy wanting to change the subject to Maritza. Ryan cared about the answer to that question, no matter how he tried to play it. 

"Nah." Miguel finalized his decision that very second. "I don't think I'm going to send her one this year."

"No?" That same casual disinterest that was a complete lie.

"Nope." Miguel gave a resolute click of his mouse, still slumped comfortably back in his chair. 

**

When Valentine's Day finally came, Ryan did leave him a Valentine. Of a sort. Miguel found another lollipop in his pillowcase when he settled down for the night. It was tied with another limp bow of green string.

Miguel grinned in the dark, stretching to tuck it away for later.

Ryan would be discovering his own little present about now. If he hadn't already. Miguel wondered how much annoying crinkling of the pillow under his head it would take to alert the Irishman to the letter inside.

Miguel had landed on the idea after Ryan had left the computer room. He hoped Ryan appreciated the pains he'd gone to to be covert.

**

The next day, Miguel strolled into the mostly empty kitchen area, slipping back to prowl the sheltering metal shelves where the food stores where kept. It was semi-privacy, and Miguel had come here before to do business with Adebisi. He was looking for Ryan this time. He was the one assigned to inventory before the rest of the kitchen crew showed up. A nice dull job that allowed solitude. Back in the shelves, they could steal a little time. Couldn't go too far, but they could speak in low tones and hang out a little with no one the wiser.

Ryan turned around upon hearing Miguel, ignoring the cans he'd been counting, eyes alertly focusing on the lollipop casually hanging out of Miguel's mouth. 

"Hola. Gracias." Miguel slipped the lollipop out of his mouth, tipping it to Ryan.

"Hey there, mi gato." Ryan grinned widely, hotly amused, setting down his clipboard to relax with his back against the shelf. "See? No poetry." 

"Thanks for that, baby." Miguel teased, before sucking the lollipop back into his mouth.

Ryan was distracted by watching him, green eyes keenly focused and lips parted, as Miguel teased the hell out of him with the playful suck of the lollipop. Ryan's hand was running unconsciously over a metal shelf. Like he instinctively wanted to touch but knew he shouldn't. Probably because he didn't trust himself to stop, which was how Miguel felt.

"I got your present. Did you crib those words from your girl, or from Playboy?" Ryan's drawl tried for teasing, but Miguel could tell he'd appreciated it.

Miguel had written him a letter, all right. With Ryan's loneliness and obscene interest in mind. He'd had to be careful. Couldn't write a real letter. Couldn't mention either of them. He could write about sex, though. Give them a secretive connection. Pages of vivid smut that had been all kinds of fucking fun to brainstorm. Down and dirty as those Penthouse letters. It had all been about women and a man, taken from fantasy, stuff he'd done, Miss Sally, any source. Tucked in with those clear mentions of tits and pussy, were other things. Hidden meaning. The description of a man looking like Ryan, being on the receiving end of things that Miguel knew Ryan liked, that Miguel liked to do to him. His gift to Ryan. One he would appreciate, yet one that wouldn't appear suspicious in the least if found.

"Made 'em up just for you, baby." Miguel laughed softly, swirling the candy in his mouth. He slipped it slowly past his lips, out of his mouth to speak, as Ryan watched him avidly. "You have any idea what a bitch it is to write out five fucking pages in block letters?" Miguel asked, before sucking the lollipop back into his mouth with a soft slurp. He'd had to obliterate any trace of his own handwriting.

Ryan bit his lower lip lightly at Miguel's continued display, before his mouth flowed into a slow hot smirk. "I'm not the only one getting carpal-tunnel from it, then." Ryan slid his hand down, a brush over his own thigh. Brief hot gesture, putting all sorts of ideas in Miguel's head about what Ryan had gotten up to last night while reading that letter. He'd enjoy thinking about it in more detail after lights out.

Miguel grinned around the lollipop. "That mean you enjoyed it?" 

That hot tongue darted out to Ryan's lips, purposeful. "Mmmm…yes. Gracias." How the fuck did he pack so much sex into so few words? "I did get you something else, you know. It just won't come for awhile."

"Suuure. It's in the mail, baby. Of course."

Ryan rolled his eyes and reached forward suddenly, gently grabbing the white stick of the lollipop, popping the candy out of Miguel's mouth. Stealing it, only to slip it into his own with a wicked grin. 

"What the fuck you stealing my sucker for?" Miguel teased. It wasn't a complaint.

It was hot the way Ryan rolled it in his mouth, popping it out with an unconsciously sultry curling lick of his tongue, even as he only answered with a smirk. 

"This is your way of saying you'd like a blowjob for Valentine's Day, ain't it?" Miguel guessed.

The sucker left Ryan's mouth again as he slipped it out to laugh. "It would make the day cheery."

Miguel reached out carefully to run his hand over Ryan's arm, distracting Ryan just enough with the touch, slipping all the way down his arm, to snatch the lollipop right out of his suddenly nerveless hand with a triumphant smirk.

"Schedule the time," Miguel said with casual gruffness, popping the sucker back into his mouth. The action and the promise made turned the heat up in Ryan's eyes enough to warm him straight through.

"Done. Make sure you'll be able to get away."

Miguel leaned back on the shelf across from Ryan. Best to put some distance between them. He kept his idle suck on the lollipop up, knowing it would drive Ryan fucking crazy. He'd practically asked for it, though. Another wet pop out of his mouth was followed by musing words that had nothing to do with sex and candy. Trying to distract himself from Ryan's proximity and thoughts that might lead to actions that would get them in trouble. Thinking instead of one of the things he'd noticed in his idle surfing earlier. One of the darker stories about the origins of the holiday, with people who weren't supposed to be together saying fuck everybody and being together anyway. And blood had followed. "You know how fucked up one of the legends of Saint Valentine really is, right?"

Ryan stayed relaxed back across from him, body language open, at rest. "Were you nailed in the ass with an arrow by cupid or something? Why so focused?" The words were just a playful joke.

"Like there's other shit to focus on in here?" Miguel explained mildly with a shrug. "I was fucking around on the computer earlier. It ain't all a pretty history."

"Ah, so you really weren't looking at porn? I'm shocked." Ryan mirrored his shrug, still clearly more focused on watching him. "None of the Saints have pretty fucking histories. Christians are morbid motherfuckers."

Miguel grinned at the comments, shaking his head. He knew Ryan was Catholic too. He also knew the Irishman had major fucking issues with religion. "It started with people in love all right. Fuckers weren't supposed to marry, though. Soldiers. It wasn't allowed. But crazy love struck Priest Valentine did it for them anyway."

Ryan just tilted his head back, unconcerned, still half-watching Miguel's mouth idly sucking the lollipop when not speaking. "Let me guess, didn't end well for the poor schmuck when everyone found out, did it?"

"Nope." Miguel confirmed.

"Doesn't matter." Ryan turned a little more serious at that, gaze fixing solely on Miguel's, instead of the candy. "We're smarter than them."

"Yeah, don't get your ass caught trying to marry if you aren't supposed to be together. Keep that shit secret." Miguel joked, ignoring the worry buried underneath. It was a risk he'd always known about. Them being found out. It would be fucking stupid to worry about it now, here. Had to grab every bit of light they could. Worrying about that shit would just drive Miguel crazy. Again. They were careful and cautious as they could manage to be, and Miguel wasn't prepared to even consider stopping their entanglement as an option. Thinking about the risk would only make them dwell on the few choices they were left with. And they would feel even more trapped. They dropped it, neither wanting to focus on it when they could just be together safely for a second. Didn't feel trapped when they were together.

"Ideally." Ryan stated somewhat cryptically, but he didn't say anything further.

Miguel let it go, shrugging it off. There were other theories behind the start of Valentine's, after all. Including the weird fucking one about mating birds. "That probably ain't even the real story, anyway. We just snatched the old pagan holiday and dressed it up." 

"Jesus, you really were bored, weren't you?" Ryan teased.

Miguel smirked and steered Ryan's attention away completely with a wicked lick, tasting cherry.

Ryan focused fully on hotly watching him again, casually leaning back across from him, clearly enjoying Miguel's return to savoring his lollipop. Miguel let him, amused. 

Yeah, this was something to stick with. More genuine than a half-assed letter to Maritza would have been. This made him human, part of something real. Made him _feel_ , like nothing had since his kid.

***  
End

**Author's Note:**

> Generously betaed by the wonderful pixelarious. Any remaining errors caused by me poking at it over a decade later are my fault.


End file.
